


One more miracle

by Neko_wa



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Feels, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2265735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neko_wa/pseuds/Neko_wa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I believe in John Watson</p>
            </blockquote>





	One more miracle

**Author's Note:**

> Let's Write Sherlock: Trope Bingo  
> Prompt: Role Reversal  
> still unbetaed, I hope it will be done soon...
> 
> Let me know, if you find anything.

One of John’s biggest problems was how to make Sherlock go out from Bart’s. But he found help in Sherlock himself. The man was deeply in his Mind Palace, thinking about a code that had been left by Moriarty earlier that day, so he didn’t even notice when John took his phone from the table, muted it (it was better not to disturb Sherlock by a text alert, that was one of the things that would easily bring him back to the reality) and texted Moriarty:

_Come and play. Bart’s Hospital rooftop._

_SH_

Then, a moment later:

_PS. Got something of yours you might want back._

He waited another minute, deleted these texts and cleaned phone’s screen. _You should never be too careful if you want to save Sherlock Holmes_ , John thought leaving his best friend in the hospital lab.

When doors closed, John sent another text. This time he used his own phone.

_He’s in his Mind Palace. Be sure that he actually leaves this bloody building._

_***_

He needed to be sure that everything is in order. That was the only thing John could do for Sherlock, who had saved him so many times that he lost count.

Now it was time for John to save him.

_I'm waiting..._

_JM_

***

“Ah. Here we are at last. You and me. And our problem—final problem,” said Jim as a greeting.

John barely took care about what Jim Moriarty was saying to him. Something, about being a loyal pet, about being too ordinary, about taking Sherlock from him.

“All my life I’ve been searching for distractions. Sherlock was the best distraction and now I don’t even have _him_. Because I’ve beaten him. And, in the end, it was easy.”

John said nothing, thinking and waiting for bloody Mycroft. They set it all days ago, just before Moriarty’s trial.

“You know, you won’t be able to save him. But I will tell you a secret. Your friends will die if you don’t.”

John betrayed himself by replying. He should have stayed silent.

“Sherlock.”

“Not just Sherlock. Everyone.”

John still needed more time. He knew, Mycroft’s people still didn’t come and he didn’t know what to do.

“Sherlock will prove you faked all this.”

“How? Using this code I gave him? Booring. _Partita number one_ by Johann Sebastian.”

That was unexpected.

“Now, Johnny Boy, is time for your show.”

John came to the edge of Bart’s rooftop and looked down at people passing by, not knowing what was happening above their heads.

***

John took his phone out of his pocket and took the only number that was saved on his speed-dialling list. Sherlock’s.

“Sherlock.”

“ _John. What’s wrong? Where are you?”_

“It was all fake.”

“ _What? What are you talking about?”_

“My life. My past. I imagined it. Googled you up long time before we actually met. I’m a really good actor, you know. I was able to fool you.”

“ _No, that’s not true. You know, it isn’t.”_

“Now, my fairy tale is over.”

“ _No. No, John. Where are you?”_

“Goodbye, Sherlock,” John dropped his phone and took the one, last step. It was supposed to be an easy death. Just falling, then hard landing and nothing after.

The last thing he could see was Sherlock’s silhouette rushing out of Bart’s looking for someone.

“JOHN!”

And then it was over. All his world went dark.

***

_Few weeks later_

Summer day in London. No one could say that only few weeks before one brilliant man had taken his life to let others kill Moriarty. Now it seemed that only one person remembered about him.

Dark haired, pale figured man took his usual, everyday way. From Bart’s hospital, where, around a telephone box, he left a single, red rose with black hatband, to the graveyard to a single, black thumb with a simple engraving which said:

_JOHN WATSON_

_7.07.1971—6.06.2012_

The man stood there silently for a long time that could easily turn into hours or even all day. Just stood, looking at the grave.

“I believe in you, John Watson.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I really ment John to CLEAN the screen. As you know, Sherlock's phone has a touch screen which gathers fingerprints so Sherlock would easily deduce what John sent and to whom.


End file.
